


And in Health

by bonzai_bunny



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, But that happens before the story, Consent Issues, Feminization, Geralt is catching feelings, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No proofreading we die like mne, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22429234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonzai_bunny/pseuds/bonzai_bunny
Summary: Every so often, a sickness comes over Geralt but, for the first time ever, he has someone to help him through it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 17
Kudos: 829





	And in Health

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know dick about the witcher, only what I gleaned from the Netflix show BUT I know there is a lack of bottom Geralt which is a damn shame. So here I am, wading into pools unknown.
> 
> Painfully un-proofread
> 
> Edit: wow I'm blown away by the response this is getting, thanks guys! ❤️

Geralt knew something was amiss when he could feel Jaskier draped over him under their bundle of blankets and his first thought was that it felt _good_. Geralt had taken pity on the bard in the cold last night, who kept complaining about how he was going to freeze to death while he slept and Geralt suggested that they share body heat. They slept on the same bedroll (It was an extremely tight squeeze) and under the same covers. They had gone to bed facing back to back and they both fell asleep quickly. 

At some point in the night, Jaskier must have rolled over because his face was pressed between Geralt’s shoulder blades and his hips, particularly his erection, were pressed against Geralt’s bum. And it felt wonderful. Geralt had thought he had had more time between his body’s sickness, but adventure and the bard had provided an unintended distraction and now Jaskier was in danger.

“Jaskier,” Geralt hissed to wake the bard up. There was no such luck and the other man simply burrowed further into Geralt’s space. He shut his eyes briefly and allowed himself a sinful dose of that warmth before he shouted, “Jaskier!” and nudged the bard.

Jaskier woke with a start and cried out, “What, what’s the matter!?”

And then after a moment passed, he seemed to realize the position he was in.

“Oh! I-I am _so sorry_ , Geralt. Let me--let me get ready this morning.”

Jaskier quickly fumbled his way out of the bedroll, allowing Geralt the space to roll onto his back. The bard was in his loose sleep clothes and they did nothing to disguise the tenting of his erection and at the sight of it Geralt wanted nothing more than to spread his legs and the sickness hadn’t even started yet. His lower abdomen churned and he grit his teeth.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, “I need you to leave.”

Jaskier paused with his hands on his hips and his face scrunched up in offense, which was a tad absurd considering the tent at his crotch. 

“What, because of a little morning wood? It was an honest accident--surely it’s happened to you before!”

“No, it’s not because-- _listen_ ,” he grit out, “I have a sickness that will take over soon and when it happens I may not be able to control myself. I want you to head west to the village about 10 miles from here and stay there. Come back for me in three days.”

Jaskier squinted at Geralt. “What, like a werewolf? Are you turning into a werewolf? Because if you aren’t, that sounds like a flimsy excuse to just get me away.”

Geralt sat up as anger began to course through him and he growled, “Jaskier, just listen to me! You can’t be here!”

“Why? What will happen?” 

Geralt admitted, as much as it pained him, “I may--I may force myself on you and I do not wish for that to happen.” 

Unfortunately, the expression that crossed Jaskier’s face wasn’t one of disgust or revulsion, but of concern. He knelt down beside Geralt and asked, with a voice full of worry,

“But why?”

Geralt closed his eyes and sighed. It would be painful enough, what was going to happen to him in the coming hours, but he didn’t want to preface it with some self-torture. However, he recognized that Jaskier wasn’t going to leave if he wasn’t given a good reason to do so.

“Witchers...are infertile,” he began.

“Not where I thought this was going,” Jaskier admitted but at Geralt’s glare he cleared his throat. 

“But, continue.”

“It’s a part of the process that turns us into…this. But there was a wizard who wanted to circumvent this. Wanted to breed an entire army of witchers. He chose some of us to be...the receiving partner. I guess the logic was, if our seed wasn’t potent, then perhaps we could accept seed that was. It didn’t work. The experiment failed and not only did the wizard die, but a dozen of us were left with mutations that cause our bodies to believe they must breed every few months.”

Through the explanation, a look of horror began to rise on Jaskier's face and he was as white as a sheet by the time Geralt was done speaking. Geralt thought this meant that the other would finally realize how dangerous it was to be around him but instead Jaskier asked,

"What does this entail?"

Geralt grit his teeth again and said, "Damn it bard, I've told you enough!"

The truth was the particulars were as humiliating as they were disgusting. Geralt had a hard-enough time being a mutant and it was even worse that he had the occasional all-encompassing urge to be bred like a bitch. He hated how Jaskier eyes were inquiring instead of fearful.

"I need to know if I'm going to help, Geralt," Jaskier said like it was the sensible thing in the world.

Geralt nearly choked. 

"Help?"

Jaskier looked at him like he was being slow. 

"Yes, help. You've gotten me out of gods know how many scrapes and I'll be damned if I let you suffer for three days by yourself for no reason. So, what's going to happen and how can I help with it?"

Geralt looked away from the bard's earnest expression, mostly so he didn't have to see Jaskier's face and said, "I will become insatiable for a man's...seed. I have been told that receiving it lowers the sickness time from three days to one, but I have never tried it myself."

"Alright."

Geralt whipped his head around to stare at the other. Jaskier smiled at him, not unkindly. 

"After all we've been through, what's a little buggery?"

Jaskier looked over Geralt, who was still sitting on the bedroll, under a heap of blankets. He was sure he didn't look particularly comely at the moment considering how he felt. Whatever Jaskier saw in the look over he kept to himself and he stood up with his hands on his hips again. His erection had thankfully subsided.

"So, where do you want me?"

"That part won't come for some time now. But I will need water. Both to drink and to clean," Geralt admitted. He would let the bard connect the dots on his own. Jaskier looked elated at the possibility of helping.

"Alright, water! I can do that!"

"There's a stream between here and the village."

Jaskier nodded to himself and to Geralt he declared, "I'll be back in a jiffy!" 

Geralt watched the bard collect their canteens and a bucket and go off on his merry way and he only felt a little bad about not telling the full truth. What he failed to mention was that between right then and the overbearing lust was a phase of absolute pain and misery as Geralt's guts tried to rearrange themselves to grow a womb that would never be complete. He had no interest in letting Jaskier see him like that. It was already lunacy that he agreed to let Jaskier help him in the first place. The bard would probably take three hours to come back and Geralt could scream from pain in relative privacy.

Geralt woke to a cool wet cloth on his face, which was a balm to his heated body. He leaned into it and groaned. His body, roughly, felt like it had been dipped into lava and his head was in a haze like he had been drinking a strong dwarven spirit.

"Oh, thank gods," Jaskier said with an exhale that reminded Geralt of the situation he was in. He squinted up at the worried face above him and noted four things. One, he was completely nude on the bedroll. Two, the sun's position declared it noon and he could not quite recall when he passed out. Three, there was the smell of salt pork in the air. And four, most importantly, between his cheeks was slick.

"You about gave me a heart attack hearing your scream like that," Jaskier scolded, but the effect of which was undercut when he handed a tin cup full of water to Geralt. Geralt sat up drank it in one gulp and Jaskier refilled it.

"My clothes?" He rasped and accepted the cup again eagerly.

"They were off by the time I got here. I think you are running a fever of some sort and you took them off in your delirium."

"Food," Geralt grunted. Jaskier handed him the pork he had smelled earlier wrapped in a cloth. He ate it like a starving man while Jaskier continued to talk.

"I tried to wash you down with water to cool you to the best of my ability but Geralt you--you really scared me, hearing you scream like that. It sounded like murder."

Geralt didn't have the capacity to deal with whatever emotional problems Jaskier had at the moment and asked,

"Did you turn me over when you washed me?"

The bard looked confused. "No, why?"

"...Fuck."

The second phase had started then which, in Geralt's opinion, was the worst phase. He could handle pain, no matter how debilitating; that's what he was made for. What he hated was the urge that came with this faux heat, the nature that made him surrender to his basest desires. He could, and had for as long as he had been a witcher, ride it out without any contact, but the bard in front of him smelled delectable. He still couldn't believe Jaskier had agreed to this. He wondered if Jaskier would lose his nerve.

"It's time, bard." 

Jaskier's eyes widened and he stammered, "O-oh, alright."

He seemed to take a moment to steal himself before nodding and swinging his legs over Geralt's middle. Geralt ignored how good the contact felt and he grunted. 

"Bard!" 

Jaskier gave a slow smile.

"You don't expect me to just stick it in, do you? That's offensive to my reputation as a renowned lover. I'm going to make this good for us both."

"...Fine," Geralt conceded. "Just don't kiss me. I'm not one of your fair maidens."

Jaskier's smile widened and he leaned down until his mouth was next to Geralt's ear.

"But you're so pretty like one," he purred and a shiver went down Geralt's spine. The witcher had been called a lot of things in his long life, but not once had he ever been called pretty. It wasn't a totally unpleasant feeling but he didn't focus on that as Jaskier's mouth was hot against his neck and it was better than Geralt thought it would be. So were the hands that were rubbing up against his hard abs. 

Jaskier kissed and sucked along his jawline and a flame of desire shot through Geralt by the time the younger man licked and bit at the hollow of his throat. He rumbled, low in his chest and the flame brightened when Jaskier cupped his pecs, which felt unusually tender.

"There are many things that are beautiful about you witcher, but I love your tits especially."

Geralt felt his cock swell and his face heat up at the words. No one had ever dared to say such a thing to him and he didn't know why it was making his belly hot now. He resolutely did not lean into the touch but he couldn't stop the groan that escaped when thumbs brushed against his hardening nipples.

Jaskier looked like he had been handed the keys to all of the Continent and Geralt would have regretted his reaction but the other man pulled at his nipples and Geralt's cock throbbed. 

Set on a new path of discovery, Jaskier kissed down his chest and kept up a slow but firm massage of his pecs. It felt unnaturally good and Geralt bit his lip to keep from moaning but it came out anyway when Jaskier sucked on his nipple. His tongue, hot and wet, rasped over the nub and Geralt’s hips bucked and his cock dripped at the pleasure. It was humiliating, having his tits sucked like a nursing mother but that didn't stop it from feeling divine.

A flood of slick gushed out his ass when Jaskier bit his nipple and pinched the other and Geralt let out a loud cry. He normally took hours to get to this state of arousal, but a few clever touches from the bard and he was suddenly more aroused than he had ever been. They had already gotten this far; it did Geralt no good to deny himself of his wants so after a few moments of Jaskier squeezing and groping his tits, Geralt grit out,

“Just fuck me already!”

The bard looked up with wide, pupil blown eyes. Geralt could smell the arousal coming off of the other in waves and Jaskier swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing, before he nodded. He crawled off of Geralt’s waist and when he was beside him, Jaskier stared at the witcher’s fully hard dick with clear lust and admiration.

“No wonder lady Yennefer is so taken with you,” Jaskier muttered and wrapped a hand around Geralt’s wet cock, barely able to reach around the whole thing. The wave of pleasure was too intense and Geralt had to shut his eyes and swallow his cry. Jaskier’s hand was much smaller than his own, exploratory and thorough with its touch. He thumbed at Geralt’s slick head and smeared it around and Geralt had to breathe through his nose and count backwards he was so worked up. Normally, his stamina was legendary, but his sickness combined with Jaskier’s eager palming made him much closer to coming than he should have been. His balls throbbed and his gut was searing with fire. All of him felt hot, felt close to the edge.

Jaskier gave him two full strokes and Geralt clenched his abs to prevent bucking into them. None of this mattered because the bard popped Geralt’s cockhead in his mouth with a hard suck and tugged on his balls and Geralt’s orgasm shook him to the core. 

Geralt’s hips arched up of their own accord towards Jaskier’s mouth as Jaskier continued to suck and massage his balls as Geralt came. His chest was heaving by the time he stopped coming and Jaskier kept sucking, red mouth stretched wide over Geralt’s cock, until he realized that Geralt wasn’t softening. It was impressive that the bard had swallowed all of his seed.

“Dear gods, is it normally like this for you?” Jaskier asked after he pulled away. He kept his hand on Geralt’s cock which was now slick with saliva and cum.

“No,” Geralt said with an arm thrown over his face. The orgasm knocked more out of him than he thought it would, but his ass still felt hungry and empty.

“Typically, it takes me a moment.”

“Only a moment?”

Jaskier stared at Geralt’s cock, long enough that the pause made Geralt remove his arm and look at the bard. Jaskier’s tongue wet his bottom lip as he stared, as if in a trance, but the action reminded Geralt of the need still churning in his gut.

“Jaskier, stay focused.”

That seemed to shake the bard out of whatever had caught his attention and he shook his head.

“Right, right. How do you want to take it?” 

At Geralt’s blank look, he elaborated,

“What position do you want to be in? On your back, on your hands and knees, et cetera.”

The prospect of being on his hands and knees--being bred like a bitch--made his asshole clench and more slick drip out. Who was he to deny his body what it wanted?

Geralt got into position in a lumbering manner because his limbs felt like that of a newborn calf. When he got there, on his hands and knees, his ass facing Jaskier, ready to be fucked he couldn’t deny how good it felt. How right it felt to be here. It was probably his body’s sickness, but this position felt like it was where he belonged. 

“Fuck, Geralt, you’re so wet,” Jaskier exclaimed as a finger tentatively pressed against his slick hole. It slipped in with no resistance and Geralt groaned even as he felt his ass twitch around it. A second finger quickly followed and Geralt could hear the wet sound they made as they pressed in deeper inside of him, exploring and devious, and it made his ears burn with embarrassment. 

“Gods,” Jaskier began as he pulled his fingers out, dripping with slick. Geralt grunted and tried to follow them, instinctually.

“I’ve never seen a cunt this wet before,” Jaskier finished and a current of desire went through Geralt, to his surprise and mortification. He somehow got wetter; he could feel his hole clenching with want and it was humiliating that Jaskier could see it. It was even worse that Geralt’s dick started to get wet again.

Three fingers pushed back in and went in deep enough that Geralt couldn’t help but groan low in his chest. He rumbled with desire when Jaskier’s fingers thrust in and out, drawing this out unnecessarily but oh so close to what he wanted.

“Jaskier,” he gasped at a clever twist of fingers. The back of his thighs were wet now, his hole clenching and dripping with every new thrust. He never managed to get this wet on his own, even on the third day when he was at his most desperate.

“Stop playing around,” Geralt growled once he found his train of thought again. He was so aroused and his head was so fuzzy it was hard to think. When the bards fingers were in him, he wanted nothing more for them to stay there but he knew deep down that this wasn’t what his body needed. 

“Okay,” Jaskier agreed and pulled his fingers out at once with a wet slurp sound. More slick dribbled out and, instinctually, Geralt pushed his ass towards the other because he _hated_ being so empty. The crown of Jaskier’s cockhead pushing in felt divine and the rest of his cock followed quickly, with no resistance.

“Fuck, Geralt,” Jaskier gasped when he was fully seated inside. His cock was a throbbing warmth and weight that sent a fire down Geralt’s spine. He unintentionally squeezed around it, eager. 

“That’s the idea,” he grunted. His breath caught in his throat when Jaskier pulled out part way and pushed back in. It was--good. It was unreasonably good. It didn’t take long for Jaskier to work up a rhythm and it was a well-practiced one with deep, strong thrusts. Geralt was starting to see that the bard, for all of his faults, was very good at fucking. His “charm” notwithstanding, it was no wonder men’s wives flocked to him. It was the best fuck Geralt had had since...ever. The first couple of times Geralt had been fucked had been shortly after his trials when it wasn’t the sickness taking over but pure adolescent horniness. The boys took turns with each other and in his adulthood Geralt rarely felt the urge to be buggered, but it had never felt this good.

Jaskier’s hands were surprisingly strong and callused on Geralt’s hips. He smelled even better now, of musk and sex and sweat, and Geralt wanted it all over him. He could hear the feverish groans of the other and it made him hot, made him clench his ass to draw out more sweet sounds. Geralt almost regretted never paying a whore to fuck him like this during his sickness because this felt unreal, how pleasurable it was.

Or perhaps Jaskier was just _that_ good.

Geralt felt unbearably close, he had been since Jaskier first entered him, and he rode on a thin line of desire and fulfilment that never seemed to stop. Unfortunately, Jaskier could only last so long. Geralt could tell it was about to end at the breath caught in the bard’s throat, in the hands that tightened around his hips. He lasted an impressively long time before his hips lost their steadfast rhythm. Jaskier’s pace grew sloppy and then stuttered to one-two-three and he moaned loudly as he came.

Geralt’s orgasm was as sudden as it was intense. It was blinding, all-encompassing, and he heard someone crying out and it took a second to realize that it was coming from him. Geralt shuddered hard and frantically stroked his cock to draw it out because this was the best he had _ever_ felt.

A few moments passed and Jaskier pulled out causing Geralt to grunt.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Jaskier asked, even as two fingers pressed into his hole, sending more shudders down Geralt’s spine.

“No,” Geralt grunted. “Quite the opposite.”

“Great!”

Geralt couldn’t see him, but he was sure the bard was grinning.

“So, what now, is it over?”

Geralt found the energy to roll over, mindful of the man behind him. The movement forced the cum to settle around inside of him and it made his spent cock twitch. Thankfully, it was too soon for him to be at full hardness and he rested somewhere in between. 

“Not quite,” Geralt said with a sigh. “I will experience a brief reprieve until it starts again in which case, I will require your...services again.”

Jaskier rested on his knees next to Geralt. He looked somewhat silly with his flaccid cock sticking out of his trousers but he looked overall delighted, if a bit incredulous.

“You’ve got my cum in your bottom and you can’t say you need me to fuck you again?” 

Geralt rolled his eyes.

“You’re enjoying this too much, bard.”

Jaskier’s smile widened.

“Not as much as you did, witcher. I’ve never seen you throw yourself into pleasure that way!”

Geralt resolutely did not feel embarrassment about this situation and the bard's words. But credit had to be given where credit was due.

"It was...good."

Jaskier looked even more pleased with himself, which Geralt didn't think was possible.

"I told you I had a reputation to uphold."

"You did," Geralt allowed. 

"I'm glad you were satisfied," Jaskier said with a wink. Something in Geralt's belly fluttered, but he chose not to examine that. Instead, he said,

"Water."

Jaskier rolled his eyes but filled a cup and handed it over. If Geralt felt lamb-limbed before, he was positively glued to the ground now. He accepted the water and drank it gratefully. He let out a sigh of contentment but grunted in surprise when Jaskier laid his head on his bare chest.

"I told you I'm not one of your maidens, bard, and I will not be treated as one," Geralt threatened.

"I don't often stay after I'm done so as I see it, I'm not treating you like one at all," Jaskier reasoned. 

Geralt didn't know what to say to that at all but the other took his silence as permission and cozied up to him even closer. 

"Wake me when you're horny again," Jaskier said and closed his eyes, as easy as that. Geralt did his best to ignore the protective urge that came over him as well as the fluttery feeling in his gut again. It would do no good to dwell on such a thing right now. The evening still awaited them and Geralt couldn't wait for his sickness to be over, even as his body begged for more.


End file.
